SHELTER SWELTER
by akaStoryteller
Summary: Question: Who's hot and grouchy? Answer: Dean Winchester. Whose idea was it to find a hunt in Arizona in the middle of the summer anyway?


Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Supernatural. I'm just having a little fun with the two main characters.

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**SHELTER SWELTER**

**By: akaStoryteller (Vanessa Sgroi)**

Dean Winchester lifted the hem of his t-shirt and wiped his sweaty face before throwing himself backward to recline haphazardly on the motel bed. He groaned and shot a side-eye glare at this younger sibling who was seated at the tiny table in the corner. In a nearby window, a beleaguered air-conditioner chugged away, laboriously working to meagerly cool the atrociously-decorated room. The sign in front of the motel read "Cool! Clean! Comfortable!" As far as Dean was concerned, all three claims were highly questionable.

"Whose stupid idea was it to come Arizona in the middle of summer for a hunt anyway?"

"I believe it was yours," Sam replied.

Dean's brow furled as he thought back over the last week. "Uh uh. I never said that."

"You said and I quote, 'Sam, I'm going stir-crazy. Find us a hunt. Not just anything either. Find us an _interesting_ hunt. Something _fun_.' So here we are. This was the most interesting hunt I could find. The _fun_ part is debatable."

Dean punched at the flimsy pillow he'd stuffed under his head. "Whatever." Narrowing his gaze, Dean scoured his brother from toe to head, taking in his khaki knee-length shorts and gray t-shirt. When he got to Sam's head, Dean shuddered. His brother was sporting a _man-bun_, albeit a relatively small one. "How are you so calm, cool, and collected anyway?"

"I'm not."

"Well, you sure don't look like you're sweltering." _Like me._

Sam turned on the chair and looked at Dean. "No, I'm hot too. Just not making a career of complaining about it."

Dean rolled up from the bed and stood. "I haven't been complaining about it that much."

"Right. Just every other minute for the last," Sam glanced at his watch, "two hours."

"Fine! I have been complaining about it—because I'm H-O-T."

"You know, you could change into a pair of…"

"Don't say it—you know I don't do _shorts_."

"Uh, given the weather and our current location—you could make an exception. I'm sure you could squeeze into a pair of mine for the day."

"That's…wait…did you just squeeze into yours? You sayin' I'm fat?"

Sam groaned and rolled his eyes. "No, I'm saying you're a slightly different body type."

"Yeah, as in I'm not an overgrown string bean!"

Approaching grouchiness himself and knowing his older brother would take umbrage, Sam muttered, "You're absolutely right. You're a little more…potato-ey…"

The older Winchester opened his mouth to protest but before he could utter a sound, Sam held up his hands in a placating manner. "Okay…truce! Truce!" He scrubbed a hand down his face. "Look, we're both getting a little out of sorts. Why don't we take a break and do something?"

At Dean's reluctant nod of agreement, Sam continued, "There's a pool outside…"

Dean made a face. "Sam, did you SEE that pool? Petri dish comes to mind. Besides, I'd be red as a lobster in fifteen minutes."

Knowing that was true based on too much past experience, Sam conceded the point with a nod. He spun around and grabbed his laptop off the table. Easing down on the corner of the bed, he let his fingers fly over the keyboard. "Hey, how about this—there's a place not too far from here called the _Milk Shake & Cake Bake Bar_—says its 'Home of the Mega Monster Milkshake'. Let's go hang out there for a while, do some research while we have one? First round of shakes are on me." He waited a beat. "C'mon, they have a Neapolitan shake—one of my favorites."

Dean finally nodded. "Beats sitting around here." He headed to the nightstand to grab the Impala's keys.

"Are you sure you don't wanna change?" Sam gestured toward Dean's denim jeans.

"Place is air-conditioned, right?"

"Yeah."

"Then no. I'm not gonna change." He grabbed the keys and turned to follow Sam out of the motel room. "Oh, God, Sam—you're not gonna wear that…that man-bun, are you?"

"Dude, it's a hundred and five degrees out there. The man-bun is staying, Dean. The man-bun is staying."

"You know, if you'd just get your hair cut…"

"Don't make me break out the flip flops, Dean."

"Sam, don't be ridiculous. That's just crazy talk—hunters can't run in flip flops."

_**FIN**_

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